


Reaching for the Sky

by lustig



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 05:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lustig/pseuds/lustig
Summary: Armand sighed nearly soundlessly. “Even though I don’t want to leave you and my cats all alone, Iamglad for this conference. I haven’t seen some of the other attendances in years. Luca will be there. Joseph, if I’m lucky. Please, Jean. Believe me when I tell you that I will survive this week.”





	Reaching for the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreyaLor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaLor/gifts).



> Thanks to Bean for beta-reading this ficlet :D  
> The prompt comes from Freya in form of this beautiful picture of [Modern Capaldieu](https://freyalor.tumblr.com/post/163907019643/crumpled-newspaper-mixed-media-a-bit) so this story is for her :-)  
> Also, I am sorry in advance for religious inaccuracies - I'm a Protestant myself and all my knowledge of Cardinals is basically from Wikipedia...
> 
> Title's from Queen's [No One But You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLKyaOLb2Fs).

“Are you –“

“Jean, I’ll be _fine._ Stop worrying.” The young Cardinal adjusted his robes one last time, throwing a critical look at the mirror.

His part-time flatmate and full-time lover, Captain Jean de Treville of the Division Générale de Paris, teetered behind him, softly rocking back and forth. One of the cats could be heard, purring on the windowsill.

“Really, Jean. I’ll be gone for a little more than a week, and there will be too much going on for me to even miss you.” 

The younger man grumbled, sounding more glad than enraged to hear these words.

Armand sighed nearly soundlessly. “Even though I don’t want to leave you and my cats all alone, I _am_ glad for this conference. I haven’t seen some of the other attendances in years. Luca will be there. Joseph, if I’m lucky. Please, Jean. Believe me when I tell you that I will survive this week.”

A warm body pressed against his thin frame, pulling him into a bear hug.

“I will call you every evening. Or morning. Or both, whatever you prefer.” The Cardinal melted into the embrace, turning and burrowing his head in the crook of the captain’s neck.

“Take care, your Holiness.” Treville kissed him affectionately.

“It’s your Eminence, actually,” Armand grinned and fully turned around to deepen their kiss.

The insistent honking outside separated them at last. While Richelieu was rearranging his clothes to be presentable once again he asked Treville to repeat every task on his instruction list, including cat care and what to do with his daily mail.

“Go and play a proper man of church for a week.” 

Armand’s features turned serious. “I am not playing, Jean.”

“And I know that very well. Sometimes it’s just hard to believe, the way you order around our Prime Minister.” He pulled the tall man against his chest once again, burrowing his hands in the already greying curls.

“Take care. Don’t run off with strange man, don‘t get yourself poisoned, yeah?”

“I promise.”

They parted with these words.

 

~*~

 

After the Grand Reception the Cardinals College was finally allowed a bit of free time. His old friend Luca fell into step next to him, giving him a relaxed smile.

“Armand. One hears a lot about the secret ruler of France if one knows to keep his ears opened. How are you doing?”

“Every day a little better, my dear Luca. France is prospering under its current Prime Minister, however immature he may seem.”

“All thanks to you, hmm?”

“Not _only_ to me, Luca. Never only to me. In the end I am still a man of God.” After a moment he continued: “I heard you were made one of the Pope’s personal advisors?”

If Luca Sestini were a different man he would probably beam with arrogant pride right now. But he wasn’t, and the only thing showing his happiness about the fact that he indeed belonged to the Pope’s group of advisors now was the deepening of his smile and a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

“I am,” he confirmed, his voice soft and melodic. “Life here in Rome has treated me very well so far. It could have done you a lot of good too, my friend.”

“You and me, conquering Rome together, like we planned during Seminary.” They exchanged nearly boyish grins.

“I am glad you’re here”, Sestini sighed at last. “It’s been too long.”

Before Armand could answer he felt his phone vibrating and gave Luca an apologetic glance while he picked up.

“One moment”, he mouthed and turned away, mobile pressed against his ear.

“Jean?”, he breathed quietly.

“Hello, great Cardinal. Am I interrupting something important?” Armand could hear laughter in the background and the clinking of porcelain cups. “Got a five minute break in my shift, thought I’d use the time and check up on you. How was the flight?”

“Pleasant. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Reception ended, maybe fifteen minutes ago?”

“My timing’s impeccable, huh?”

“You’re an idiot,” Richelieu said fondly.

“Your idiot, your Eminence.” Someone called Treville’s name, Athos most probably. The captain sighted, resigned.

“Duty’s calling. Talk to you in the morning?”

“If you can make the time, certainly.”

“Great! Chin up and eyes front, soldier. Bye!”

“Bye.” 

He put the phone back again and turned back to his companion, finding himself captured by a critical, almost unreadable stare.

“So, you’re still… indulging, are you? Is that the reason why you’re refusing to come and stay in Rome permanently?” Luca was watching him with a sharp frown, not one of curiosity but one lacking in understanding.

“You want to tell me you stopped _indulging_ , as you call it, after we left Seminary? If I remember correctly you were _quite into it_ back then.” Armand’s voice sounded like a defensive hiss.

“We were like children, back then. Children do all kinds of stupid things. But in the end it’s still sodomy.” Luca was about to turn away, his eyes angry slits, when Armand’s shoulders slumped down in defeat.

“We’ve been together for close to three years now, Luca. And I think I love him. He makes me… happy. Content. How can anything so beautiful not be given by God?”

“You swore an oath to God. And you are breaking it, time and time again, willingly. You are spitting on everything we believe in. Everything that is good and holy.”

“You think I don’t know that? Do you think I was _trying_ to find somebody? We just kept running into each other! We both know what we do is neither allowed nor appreciated. We can’t meet in public, we can’t tell our colleagues, we are not even allowed to visit each other in the hospital if anything were to happen! 

We saved our private phone numbers with our first names only because doing it with our family names would be too dangerous! We are both suffering in our current situation. But every stolen moment we can get, every smile, every touch is the only thing that keeps me going some days. And if I have to end in Hell because of that, it is a risk I am willing to take.” His vision has gotten blurry at the end of his little speech and he angrily stumbled backwards when Sestini came closer. The other man stopped, unsure as to how to approach the upset cardinal.

“Armand,” he offered quietly in the end. “I am sorry.”

Luca stepped closer, softly gripping Richelieu’s shoulders and, when the older man didn’t try to break away, pressed their foreheads together. “The life you lead in Paris is very different from the Vatican. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that there are also other, more worldly problems in existence.” Their breath mingled. “We were great friends once. Maybe even more that that, for a short while. I still consider you a close friend. Let’s not argue about your private life anymore. Don’t let it taint our opinion of each other.”

A couple of ringing bells called them back. They parted from each other, both looking a little insecure, reserved.

“I think I’d like that,” Armand finally stated serenely.

 

~*~

 

The next morning came with a call from Jean just after the Cardinal had left the shower.

“Morning, dear,” Armand greeted his lover. His voice sounded far too soft to his own ears but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“Hello, my Prince.”

“How can you be so cheery this early in the morning?”

“Late shift start. Took a little longer last night. Also, talking to my favourite Catholic might help.” Richelieu snorted amused.

“Who’s your favourite non-Catholic then, old heathen?”

“My mother,” he answered promptly. “What’re you up to today?”

“All of the European conclave-eligible Cardinal Priests get a private audience with His Holiness today. So, I’m only waiting for my private audience with the Pope!”

“You sound excited.”

“Do you have _any_ idea how rare a chance that is? Even for a Cardinal?”

“I’m a Protestant. Even if I did know, which I don’t, I’d probably still be unable to fully appreciate it. But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

The continued their banter until someone knocked on Richelieu’s door, calling him for the joined breakfast. He was still smiling faintly when he reached the hall.

 

~*~

 

“You really are very fond of him, huh?” Sestini sat down next to Richelieu, throwing a critical glance at the barely-touched bread-and-cheese. Only the rest of a cluster of grapes indicated that the Cardinal had actually started eating. Luca’s comment only earned him a non-committal hum.

“Is that today’s _Le Parisien_?”

“It is,” Richelieu confirmed, turning another page of the paper.

“Where did you get that from?”

“I ordered it to be delivered to me.”

“To Rome? Why would you order a daily Parisian newspaper to the Vatican?”

“I like having something to read for breakfast. And I also need to keep up to date with whatever happens there. I am kind of in charge of some of the politics in France. A country does not stop its need to be ruled by the absence of one of its rulers. And with the absence of a secure internet connection…” 

Luca kept silent for a while, a half-frown on his face.

“Sometimes I think you should have turned to politics completely.” 

“I wouldn’t have met you in that case.” Armand’s smile during those words put small crinkles all around his eyes. “Besides, it’s too chaotic for my taste. I enjoy the peace and the calmness faith gives me. I like to be in charge, but I don’t like to drown with no way of getting out again.”

Sestini hummed thoughtfully and turned to his plate, the sound of his eating only disturbed by the soft rustling of the newspaper.

 

~*~

 

“You sound dazed, dear,” Treville stated, silent laughter in his voice. “I gather your meeting with the Pope was a success?”

Richelieu stared at one of the bushes in full bloom of the French Garden, a stray cat on one arm, the other pressed against his ear, holding the phone. No visitors were allowed here during this congress week which was the main reason Armand had escaped to the deserted paradise in the first place.

He was still trying to process his meeting with the head of his Church and had dialled Jean’s number more or less out of reflex.

“Armand? Are you okay?” Now the captain sounded concerned, probably because no further word had come from the Cardinal.

He tried to speak again and was finally able to produce a hoarse whisper: “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s a first.”

“I… He…” The stray on his arms started to purr contently when his hand clawed itself into the soft fur, opening and closing uselessly, confused.

“He is… so calm. Like he found – like he has nothing left to fear, content and comfortable in and with his whole being.

“He looked at me, with peace and love in his eyes and forgiveness in his voice. I felt like glass under his gaze, transparent yet stained by my sins. And he looked at me like it didn’t matter. Like he was _glad_ to see me, to have me there with him, like I’m important. Like he could love me despite all my faults and errors. I –“

“You’re crying, Armand. Aren’t you?” Jeans voice sounded soft and soothing, similar to the way he was talking when he had to explain the murder of a beloved person to their family.

Richelieu gasped for air, half surprised about the fact that there were indeed tears streaming down his face and half because of the sudden rush of desperate loneliness and longing he felt at the tone of his lover’s voice. The cat on his arms, obviously feeling his distress, pressed itself closer to the Cardinal’s chest, deepening its purr.

“I _miss_ you, Jean”, he croaked, caressing the furball, still one-handed.

“Shh. We’ll see each other again in just a few days. If you want me to, I can come to the airport and pick you up. Okay?”

“Yes, please,” the older man agreed weakly.

“Good. I’ll be there, Armand. I promise.”

 

~*~

 

Richelieu missed the first phone call on the fifth day of the congress. The College had gathered in the early morning, just before sunrise in the Sistine Chapel for private morning prayers and meditation. Treville had tried to reach him only a few moments before the Cardinal came back to his room and left a short voice message.

“Hey, Armand. I obviously missed you just then. Please don’t feel the need to call me back, yeah? Just wanted to tell you I’ll probably be unable to call you this evening and maybe tomorrow morning, too. 

We got the final proof against Vargas, the leader of that Spanish smugglers I told you about some time ago. We’re just on our last preparations for the raid against him and his most important henchmen. It’ll start in a few hours and I’ll drown in paperwork afterwards. 

I’m probably goin’ to sleep till noon tomorrow. So, you’ll keep up your work in Rome and I’ll do mine in good ole’ Paris.” The Cardinal thought the call was finished, already feeling a little glum, when the Captains voice softly added: “I love you, Armand.”

The phone very nearly fell out of his hands.

They had been together for quite some time now, nearly three years, but neither had ever spoken these words out loud. They had never felt the need to do so, never felt the need for this kind of reassurance. So there was no kind of logical explanation for the sudden warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through his whole being.

He would never admit repeating the recording directly afterwards just to hear Jean’s say it _again_.

 

~*~

 

The next day came without any sign of his lover. Even though Jean had told him a call this morning would be unlikely the Cardinal could feel himself getting anxious.

Luca fell into steps next to him shortly after he had left his room. They had reacquainted themselves over the last few days and were nearly as comfortable around each other again as they had been in Seminary.

The other man took one look at the rigid figure at his side and raised his eyebrows.

“You okay, Armand? You look a little troubled.”

“It’s nothing, really.” When Sestini continued to pierce him with a cryptic stare he sighted in defeat and admitted: “I’m worried about… him. He told me yesterday he’d probably be unable to call this morning but I think a part of me was still hoping he could make it.”

“And why should that worry you?”

“His job can get a little dangerous sometimes. I fear something might have happened to him.”

Luca touched his arm softly and smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The Cardinal gave him a weak yet thankful grin. They reached the breakfast room only a few moments later.

Sestini headed directly towards the presented food while Richelieu went to his accustomed seat where he could already spot today’s _Le Parisien._

He only wanted to skim over the front page, the usually more thoroughly researched political articles that interested him were a little further in the newspaper, when the headline caught his eyes: _Spanish Smuggler Syndicate Shattered_. His growing proud smile died down as he looked at the smaller title above the catch line. _Captain of the Police killed in Crossfire._

He continued to stare at the title, but the wording didn’t change. It still said that the captain had been killed. Not wounded, not shot, but killed.

A tremble started to run through the Cardinal, a violent shiver while his hands clamped around the frail paper. His eyes flew over the short article, panicked and disbelieving, once, then a second time, a third.

 _“We are glad to announce the successful removal of a great threat to France, but we are still unable to believe at which cost this victory has been given to us.”_ Athos, Treville’s second-in-command was quoted. The writer referred to him as the temporary new leader of the Division Générale de Paris.

“Armand?”, someone called him from behind. His head snapped around, his features frozen. Luca stood there, concern in his gaze, a question in his eyes and something in the Cardinal broke.

He felt the tears coming up, threatening to break loose and he knew he had to leave the hall _now._

“Tell them I’m feeling unwell,” he croaked, more stumbling than walking past his friend and out of the room, the newspaper crushed in his far too forceful grip.

 

~*~

 

He found himself alone again entirely too soon, hastening back to his room where he had left his phone. He pleaded and prayed for any sign of Jean, any reaction while he had been out of the room. But no new message had arrived during his absence.

He dialled the captain’s private number, already half blind for the tears blurring his vision, streaming down his face. It rang once, twice.

“C’mon, Jean,” he whispered harshly, “You can’t do that to me.”

Finally, just after the third ring, somebody picked up. Richelieu nearly fainted for the sudden relief rushing through him. Jean was fine, he was alive, everything would be alright, it was only a huge misunderstanding, nothing had happened, he was _alive_ – when a strange, hardly known voice asked, carefully: “Monsieur Armand?”

The devastation came crashing back down again, more violent than before, when had the room turned so cold? Armand founds himself on the floor, had he missed the stool? The bed? Had he even tried to sit down?

“Armand?”, the strange – _not Jean_ – voice asked again.

“Tell me,” the Cardinal pleaded, “Tell me he is fine. Tell me _Jean_ is fine.” The line went dead for a moment.

“I am sorry, monsieur,” the other man finally offered quietly. “There was nothing we could do. He was probably dead before he even hit the ground.” His interlocutor sounded pained. Armand couldn’t speak.

“If I can do anything –“

“No one can help me now. Or him. Only God can.” His voice sounded far away, even to himself.

“I am so sorry,” the other man whispered, his voice nearly breaking. “I will keep you up-to-date with everything that’s happening, if you want me to.”

“Yes. Thank you.” He finished the call before the other man could add anything else. Richelieu couldn’t bear to hear his counterparts sorrow anymore while he himself felt like he was dying inside. He would never be able to hear Jean’s voice again. To bury his nose in the captain’s neck, hide himself in the strong arms of his lover. He would never be able to see him again.

Anguish and a horrible, heart-breaking loneliness burned through him while one hand somehow started the voice recording Jean had left him only about twenty-four hours ago. He sounded so alive, his voice reassuring and confident. Like he wasn’t about to be dead only half a day later. The short hesitation. I love you. Over and over again. I love you, Armand. The trembling refused to stop.

 

~*~

 

Richelieu must have fallen asleep somehow, because it was an insistent yet not too-unfriendly knocking on his door that woke him again.  
Most of the day seemed to have passed already; the light falling in through the window showed him the late afternoon sun.

He sat up on the floor, his limbs refusing to work properly. Everything hurt. When had he become so old?

While he was standing up his eyes found the newspaper article again, destroying the sweet, dreamlike illusion the warm sunlight had created.

Armand stumbled backwards and sat down on his bed.

The knocking continued.

The Cardinal closed his eyes for a moment, pressing the hands against his temples. He froze in that position, trying to get his facial features under control again.

Finally he got up and opened the door, full of non-existent angry vigour. He felt only empty.

“What is it?”, he hissed with his most intimidating voice.

“By God, I’ve seen healthier looking corpses, Armand,” Luca commented shocked. “What happened?” 

Richelieu felt dizziness spreading out through his body.

“Nothing.” _Everything._

“Bad headache.” _My life feels like it’s falling apart._

“That’s all.” _And I can’t tell anyone. Not even you._

Sestini looked at him with an unreadable gaze.

“As you say,” he mumbled finally, not sounding convinced at all. His eyes turned more serene. “You know where to find me, if you want to talk about it.”

He half-bowed before the Cardinal and disappeared into the twilight of the hallways. Richelieu gazed after him, losing himself in the distance.

He snapped out of his faraway stupor and closed his eyes for a moment, his whole figure downcast, still standing in his doorway.

When he would be back to Paris – _Not back to Jean, never again back to his Jean_ – he would not be allowed to show how deeply he mourned the fallen Captain. He would not be allowed to mourn him truly and in public. He probably wouldn’t even be allowed to visit his funeral – _funeral! They had to bury him and he hadn’t even been there for anything, not the Last Rites, nothing at all_ – officially because he was a Catholic Cardinal and Jean was a heathen in the eyes of his church – of Rome.

This day, this evening, could be the only time for him to properly say farewell to his lover – to the man he loved.

His gaze hardened with quiet determination and slowly, oh-so-slowly, he made his way to a small private prayer room, filled with candles and calming incense.

To any bystander it probably seemed like a tired, sick cardinal making his way over to speak to his God. To him it was closer to a funeral march. His head hammered mercilessly and he had to stop more than once, looking for something to hold on to.

It was a miracle no other person crossed his way. He was all the more thankful for it. He didn’t want to lose the small rest of dignity he had left in him and he was in no condition to deal with anybody else right now.

 

~*~

 

Richelieu didn’t put on any lights when he reached the room.

He picked a few candles and sank down in the centre of the room, just in front of the small prayer altar. Meticulously the Cardinal started to arrange the little lightbringers, murmuring words and prayers of the requiem mass.

“…ut ei dignéris dare locum refrigéri, lucis et pacis.“

Armand stopped for a moment, trying and failing to keep his breath calm and even, to keep back the always threatening tears. His hands trembled, but not once did he drop one of the candles.

“Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen”, he finished softly, carefully lighting the first candle.

And the world turned a little darker.


End file.
